


of pastries and borrowed pens

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 14:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11716722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Someone keeps buying all theYongpuffs, and a guy in Taeil's 10AM morning lecture won't bring his own pen. — Taeil / Youngho (College!AU)





	of pastries and borrowed pens

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: over 8k+ of ????, slow burn (or not), and bad writing... rated teen up for kissing towards the end.  
>   
> (i wrote this entire thing listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VG6wr5kqxF4) on repeat!)

The smell of freshly baked pastries hits Taeil squarely in the face the moment he steps out of his apartment’s lobby; a combination of yeast, cinnamon, and the rich scent of roasted coffee beans. It wakes him up immediately. He hitches his backpack over his shoulder, quickly making his way to the petite boutique.

Down the street from Taeil’s shabby apartment building, in the form of a bakery, is heaven itself — _Yongpuffs_. Founded just a year ago, it opens promptly at eight in the morning every day, the door propped open with a chalkboard menu, the daily specials written by the baker himself.

It’s a small establishment; the walls washed white, only to be decorated simply with a blue, neon light sign, the name _Yongpuffs_ in cursive hanging on the wall facing the cashier. A refrigerated, pastry counter takes up two-thirds of the shop, barely leaving any remaining space to squish in three tiny tables. Which works well anyway, since most of the customers have their pastries to-go, in a pastel blue baggie with the logo printed neatly on the front.

It’s the first day of the new semester of his final year at college, and Taeil could really use a morning pick-me-up to get his week started. The breadwinner of the store is, undoubtedly, the _Yongpuffs_ ; freshly sliced strawberries sandwiched between two pieces of light-as-air puff pastries, flavoured with fluffy, homemade cream (the owner’s very own secret recipe), and topped with powdered sugar. Ultimately the best breakfast food Taeil has ever eaten (beating his mother’s own bacon and eggs, no doubt), despite being so elementary. Just thinking about it is enough to make Taeil drool.

“It’s sold out, sorry!” is what he learns, however, to his complete disappointment. The boy behind the counter looks apologetic, a pair of bread tongs in his right hand, and the signature baggie in his left. “Can I get you anything else instead?”

Taeil checks his phone, _9:43AM_. His first class starts in seventeen minutes. Campus is fifteen minutes away.

“When is the next batch coming out?” Taeil licks his lips in anticipation.

To ensure the quality of _Yongpuffs_ being sold, a new batch of fifteen pastries are only made after the previous batch is entirely sold out. The phrase ‘fresh-from-the-oven’ is taken seriously by the bakers, earning the bakery the deserved love and admiration from their current, and future, customers. Taeil, loyal _Yongpuffs_ consumer since the gates to heaven opened, would know this, of course.

“Uh,” the boy fidgets, eyes darting to the kitchen, and then back at Taeil.

“In about twenty minutes,” a recognizable drawl comes up from behind the college student; it’s Doyoung, associate baker, currently a third-year culinary student, and, by wonderful coincidence, Taeil’s schoolmate from elementary school. Though they didn’t stay in contact, and the opening of _Yongpuffs_ was the first they’d interacted in a long time, Taeil has always felt some kind of _connection_ to Doyoung. (It’s not just for the _Yongpuffs_ , Taeil swears.)

His purple hair peeks out from under his chef’s hat, tired puffiness under his feline eyes, a smidge of chocolate staining his otherwise impeccably white apron.

“I’ve class in,” Taeil checks his phone again, “Sixteen minutes!”

“Can’t help you there,” Doyoung waggles a finger. “You should know how guilty Taeyong gets when the puffs sell out,” he chides. Taeil supresses a groan.

The apprentice, presently attending the culinary school Taeyong himself had graduated from a year ago, had been working at the bakery since opening day. Finding out that he had connections (Doyoung) to the owner of _Yongpuffs_ (Taeyong), Taeil could compare it to finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Except that the pot of gold was a fresh batch of amazing strawberry pastries.

He wonders if he could request they keep some aside for him, but decides against it. Taeil had only _recently_ grown close to both Doyoung and Taeyong, the head baker and sole owner of _Yongpuffs_ , making it slightly embarrassing for Taeil to be making such personal requests

Taeil lets out a strangled noise, “Alright,” he concedes, “I’ll just come back tomorrow.”

“You should really try our other pastries, y’know,” Doyoung snorts, but he’s already waving goodbye, knowing Taeil’s obsession with the beloved puff. “It’s not like we just sell _one_ kind of dessert,” looking pointedly at his own creation sitting on the counter (the _Dopuff_ , which was good in its own way).

“There’s no puff like a _Yongpuff_ ,” Taeil insists, turning on his heels, and Doyoung narrows his eyes, “Tell Taeyong I said ‘hello’!” and he’s off, rushing down the sidewalk, hopefully in time for his first class.

But of _course_ , Taeil arrives ten minutes late, traffic exceptionally horrid this morning, but it doesn’t matter because the professor is late too. The lecture theatre is almost full (it’s Journalism, a highly sought-after course), so Taeil has to take a seat near the front, which is fine; the crowd taking up the last few rows are rowdy. Everyone, including Taeil, is still in vacation mode.

He apologizes under his breath, squeezing through the row of seats, almost tripping over someone’s duffel bag, until he takes a seat somewhere near the middle. Dropping his backpack to the floor, Taeil sinks into his seat. There’s a faint smell of baked bread, and Taeil guesses he’s hungry enough to be hallucinating, sighing softly when his stomach grumbles. He sighs again, bitter about the lack of _Yongpuffs_ on his person.

Observing his neighbouring seatmates, both of whom are glued to their laptop screens, Taeil twists in his seat, unzipping his backpack to pull his own laptop out.

A pair of ratty, pastel pink converse tapping against the carpeted floor catches Taeil’s attention, just as he zips the bag shut. Taeil looks up to see a boy he’d never seen before, sitting in the row above, staring down at him. The boy has on a red baseball cap backwards, black hair combed back, tucked neatly under it. His laptop perfectly covers the lower half of his face, making his roundish, almond shaped eyes particularly daunting.

Taeil smiles hesitantly, hastily turning back in his seat, committing more focus into starting up his laptop than necessary.

(Throughout the lecture, Taeil feels a pair of eyes boring holes into the back of his neck.)

 

(Taeil manages to snag two _Yongpuffs_ the following day (Tuesday), before his Urban Studies lecture, adding a skip to his step.)

 

x

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” is what Doyoung says when Taeil steps in _Yongpuffs_ the following Monday morning.

Even after four years of college, Taeil still makes the grand effort to drag himself to morning classes (“It’s torture, I don’t know why you do it,” his neighbour, Jaehyun would say. To which, Taeil would shrug absentmindedly.) Morning classes results in many hurried mornings, rendering Taeil unable to stop by _Yongpuffs_ prior to his first class, unless he risked the (high) chance of being late.

It’s _9:35AM_ , Taeil is earlier than last Monday, but to no avail, there are no puffs lined up behind the meticulously handwritten _Yongpuffs_ sign that’s clipped to a flag. He’d been so looking forward to a treating himself this morning, having missed out on breakfast the last couple of days.

“Why is this happening to me?” Taeil asks, exasperated to say the least, leaning against the glass counter. “They were here last Tuesday!”

Doyoung swats at him lightly, “Paws off,” he nags, “Yuta just spent the last fifteen minutes wiping that clean of fingerprints.”

“Doyoung,” Taeil straightens, grabbing the baker’s slender hands, “I just want _one_.”

Doyoung clicks his tongue disapprovingly, shaking the older boy off easily, “A guy before you just bought the last five on his way out. The next batch is coming out in twenty minutes, you can wait until then,” Taeil groans, “You should just come in every Tuesday,” Doyoung advises, “Or any other day. At any other time.”

“But Monday _mornings_ are the hardest to get through,” Taeil fusses, eyeing the empty row of _Yongpuffs_. “And my other days of the week are too cramped!”

“ _You’re_ making my Monday mornings hard to get through,” Doyoung mutters noisily.

 _9:37AM_. Taeil squeezes his eyes shut, coughing out a fake sob, leaving the bakery reluctantly without looking back.

By a stroke of god’s luck, traffic to school is not terrible, so Taeil gets there ten minutes before class begins. The lecture theatre is half empty when Taeil arrives, so he takes the seat at the edge of a row near the back instead.

He’s busy looking over this week’s Journalism assignment (a 500-word write up on an interesting, but fictitious event) when someone slides into the seat beside him, laptop hitting the table with a loud _thunk_.

“Sorry,” a whisper.

Taeil glances up quickly, _Oh,_ he recognizes almost immediately, _it’s the boy with the pink converse_. He nods politely in acknowledgement, noticing he wasn’t wearing the same pair of worn converse, but another pair in white. Taeil hadn’t seen him during Wednesday’s session.

The boy doesn’t have a hat on this time, hair parted six-to-four, fringe swept to the side. Taeil shifts in his seat, feeling jittery for some foreign reason. His new seatmate busies himself with his laptop, so Taeil takes the chance to give him a swift once-over, feigning interest in the crowd sitting a few rows away.

Even while seated, the boy is nearly three inches taller than Taeil. The snug, black shirt he has on emphasises his broad shoulders wonderfully, and Taeil has to avert his gaze when the boy leans away to speak to the blonde boy on his other side. They speak in hushed tones, words a blur to Taeil, but the boy’s low voice makes his ears tingle.

The phone on the table between them buzzes. Taeil’s eyes flit to the bright screen out of reflex, the preview of a message sent from an unsaved number glaring up at him:

< _Thanks, Youngho! I’ll be sure to get back to you if I change my mind, sorry! >_

When Youngho turns back in his seat, Taeil looks back at his laptop, immersing himself into the document in front of him, the chunk of words looking back at him as if it were in a different language.

The professor saunters into class just then, handing the attendance sheet to the student closest to the front. Taeil digs a pen out from his backpack, fiddling with it while the professor greets the class, and moving straight into the day’s lecture. The class is quiet, sans the rustle of papers once in a while, the sound of the door opening and closing; Professor Jung’s monotonous drone effortlessly driving everyone into listless, lethargic state.

Taeil’s about to nod off when there’s a nudge to his side.

A mumble, “Hey,” it’s Youngho, “Can I…?” he eyes Taeil’s pen deliberately, and then back at the attendance sheet in front of him. Taeil agrees mutely, handing the pen over.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, signing the sheet, and handing both the pen and paper to Taeil.

After Taeil leaves the attendance sheet with the girl seated behind him, Youngho taps him lightly on the arm, seeking his attention again. When Taeil tears his eyes from the slideshow, Youngho is closer than expected, leaning forward, a little too into his personal space, sending a chill down Taeil’s spine. With the small gap between them, Taeil notes the smell of coffee clinging onto Youngho

“I didn’t get your name…?” Youngho hums, and Taeil is strangely captivated by his brown eyes. They look much less intimidating up close.

“Taeil,” he notices Youngho’s long fingers are still resting on his arm.

“Youngho,” he returns, pulling away with a gentle smile.

(Taeil ignores the burning sensation on his arm that Youngho’s touch left in its wake.)

 

x

 

Taeil falls into the new semester’s routine fairly easily, despite the alarming rate at which assignments and projects seem to fall at his lap. In addition to the four courses he’s enrolled in, he juggles extra one-to-one practices with Professor Shim, in order to fulfil the required hours for one of his music courses.

Mornings have become more hectic since vocal practises resumed; Taeil spends his late nights finishing up write ups for Journalism, skimming through reports for Urban Studies, catching up on the endless packets of reading material assigned by his Criminology professor, and poring over a loaned, thousand-paged textbook under a weak reading lamp for his Child Psychology course.

And even though his alarm is set to ring multiple times before 9AM, Taeil, being the avid lover of sleep that he is, has the trouble of ignoring the ones leading up to the latest possible alarm.

It’s no doubt that Taeil has barely enough time to have breakfast in the morning at _9:54AM_ , not when he’s rushing out of his apartment with his hair in a mess. Grabbing his backpack off the floor where he’d left it exactly the night before, he flings the door open, and shutting it quickly. It locks with a tiny _click._

He hops down the last few steps leading up to his apartment building, Taeil whips his head to the left, neck cracking embarrassingly loudly when he did so, the smell of pastries coming from _Yongpuffs_ is so incredibly inviting. _When was the last time I had one of those?_

The thought is quickly chased out his mind when his bus passes right in front of him. Taeil curses under his breath, running towards the bus stop in the opposite direction, vowing to himself that he would get up early the next morning.

(This happens every morning. It’s week four of the semester.)

 

When he gets on campus, Taeil is still busy checking if there are any studios available for him to use when he pushes the door open with an elbow. Turning the corner into the stairwell, Taeil practically slams himself face first into Youngho, a guttural noise escaping the back of his throat when he stumbles backwards, Youngho moving fast to steady him. Youngho’s grip on him makes his throat tighten, but he's easily distracted by three other giants behind Youngho, practically towering over them, all watching matching looks of curiosity (apart from Youngho, whose eyes are about to fly out of his head).

“Hi,” Youngho says first, his smile shy. He releases Taeil.

“Hi,” Taeil parrots, regaining his balance, a hand moving up to clutch tightly onto his backpack’s flimsy strap.

“Uh,” Youngho turns his body awkwardly to stand between Taeil and his friends. “This is Taeil, from my journalism class,” and Taeil is met with brief nods of the head, “This is Jongin, Taemin, and Sehun.” Taeil recognises Sehun as the boy that sat on the other side of Youngho.

“Hi,” Taeil repeats, brain completely blanking on him.

“I already saved you a seat,” Taeil blinks, “I’ll see you in class?” Youngho is already leaving when Taeil recuperates, managing a feeble nod. The others wave as they amble out into the hall, leaving Taeil rooted to the ground. It takes him another half minute to shake his legs free, trudging up the stairs to class.

Youngho’s (and Sehun’s) backpack is easy to spot, left on the rows they usually occupy. When Taeil nears, a white baseball cap is in his seat. He picks it up by the bill, still moving on autopilot, slumping into his seat heavily.

His heart is still hammering around his ribcage erratically, and he can’t feel his legs. There’s just this fire thrashing around Taeil’s gut whenever Youngho looks at him with those dark eyes, and just when Taeil thinks his entire body’s about to be engulfed flames, Youngho smiles; it extinguishes everything in a flash, like there’s not enough oxygen in the world for Taeil to take his last breath, like a rock is heavy in his chest, pulling him down.

He's only dragged away from his thoughts when a chocolate bar floats in front of him.

“Here,” Youngho leaves the snack sized bar in front of Taeil, sliding into the seat beside him. “Your stomach’s always growling in class, so,” he trails off, shrugging.

Taeil slides the hat back to Youngho, grabbing the candy bar, “Thanks,” he mumbles.

Youngho’s staring at him now, and the fire reignited, glowing hot in his stomach, clawing its way up his throat. He swallows painfully, pushing it back down. Youngho has a straw between his lips, using both hands to pull open a small carton of chocolate milk.

“You didn’t get anything for yourself?” Taeil asks, taking his attention off Youngho’s lips, unwrapping the chocolate bar. Youngho looks pointedly at the chocolate milk, but Taeil tips his head at Sehun, who was busy inhaling mouthfuls of steaming hot cup noodles.

“We actually had some pastries before getting here,” Youngho laughs, “But Sehun here… Well, we all think he has five stomachs.”

Taeil grins when Sehun glares at Youngho indignantly.

“Where did you guys –”

“Mr. Oh,” Professor Jung’s drawl interrupts Taeil, and Sehun seems to resemble a deer in headlights. “Please finish that outside, I haven’t had my morning coffee yet,” he grumbles.

Professor Jung didn’t mind candies and drinks, but crossed the line at cooked food. (“It’s unfair,” he reasoned on the syllabus day, “I don’t get to eat, and the others don’t get to eat. I get hungry, then I get distracted, _then_ I lose my job because I can’t teach,” he deadpanned.)

“Sorry,” Sehun garbles through a mouthful of noodles, ducking his head down when he squeezes past Professor Jung, slurping what’s left of his (second) breakfast noisily.

Youngho’s practically barking with laughter, and Taeil smiles to himself.

(Something shines when Youngho throws his head back, and Taeil notices that Youngho’s ears are pierced. _Hot_.)

 

x

 

Taeil, to his utmost pleasure, though he’d never admit it out loud, grows close with Youngho over the past two weeks, and Youngho has taken it upon himself to invite Taeil to join him and the others for lunch. Taeil thinks their friendship is comfortable, so he makes sure not to ponder too much about how he thinks Youngho’s touch lingers for a second too long, or how he thinks Youngho is stealing glances at him during classes, or how he thinks the smell of strawberry and coffee seemingly embedded into _all_ of Youngho’s clothes is strangely calming.

Lunch with Youngho (and the others) soon turns into a daily affair, Youngho (and the others) magically appearing by Taeil’s side the moment his classes lull to an end.

They walk across the courtyard, lunches in hand. The others walk ahead, boisterous, discussing a dance competition they’d all gone to watch over the weekend. Youngho hangs back, shoulders and fingers bumping, brushing against Taeil’s as they walk in cosy silence.

“Ah, that’s right! You’re the guy who did the demo for Kyuhyun’s personal composition, aren’t you?”

They’d just settled at a round table, Youngho on Taeil’s right. He looks up from opening his salad container to see Jongin staring straight at him, finger pointed at Taeil’s nose, “Uh, yeah.”

“I knew it!” Jongin claps loudly, scaring off a small bird that was by Taeil’s foot. “Kyuhyun brought it in for our audio engineering class as his sample, and we recognised it as you, like, immediately,” Jongin nudges Sehun, who nods in agreement, mouth too full of rice to answer. “I didn’t know you were majoring in music! My best friend’s in that faculty too,” Taemin and Sehun exchange knowing looks, but Taeil doesn’t know what to make of it, “Do Kyungsoo, do you know him?”

Taeil knew him, of course; Kyungsoo was the _best_ vocalist in their year, no one was anywhere near his calibre. He was a nice guy, Taeil had run into him once when he’d first booked studio time, and Kyungsoo taught him how to jiggle the lock just right to get the door to pop right open. “Yeah, I know him,” Taeil eats a crouton. “He’s really good.”

“Isn’t he?” Jongin’s positively glowing now, dimples digging deep into his cheek. “I asked him about the demo, and he said it didn’t even _sound_ like a demo! What was the title of the song, do you remember?”

“‘ _At Gwanghwamun_ ’.”

“That song is really good,” Sehun shovels another spoonful of rice pass his lips, and Taeil offers a small smile.

“Everyone was pretty much blown away when he played it for the class, by the way.” Jongin’s food is forgotten, attention completely on Taeil. The way he speaks is so spirited, Taeil thinks Jongin could be an elementary school teacher.

Taeil’s cheeks flushes when he murmurs quiet thanks, and he’s sure it’s just because of Jongin’s kind praises. Not because Youngho is staring intently at the side of his face.

“You must be a really good singer then,” Jongin grins, and Taeil knows the question that is going to tumble from his lips. “Can you sing something for us?”

“Uh,” Taeil stalls, “I’m really… not that good.”

Jongin’s mouth opens, about to protest, when Youngho interrupts, waving his chopsticks in the air between them, “Didn’t you say Kyungsoo entered that nationwide singing competition? How did _that_ go?”

That derails Jongin entirely, launching into a detailed narrative of that day’s events, eyes shining as he babbles on animatedly.

When Jongin’s halfway through a vivid recount of that day’s auditions, Taeil nudges Youngho in the elbow. Before he can catch himself, his hand rests on Youngho’s thigh to steady himself as he leans in. Youngho’s eyes dart from Taeil’s hand to his eyes, but he doesn’t swat Taeil away. Youngho’s thigh is rock-hard under Taeil’s touch, and Taeil tries to push the thought out of his mind.

“Thanks,” he mutters, but can’t seem to pull back, completely mesmerised by the slope of Youngho’s nose, the colour of Youngho’s plush lips. Taeil wonders what it would feel like to just _touch_ it. Their faces nearly smush together when Youngho turns to look at Taeil in the eyes, the space between them just barely inches apart.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Youngho whispers, the edge of his lips turned upwards into a cheeky smile. “I still want to hear you sing one day.”

(Taeil doesn’t let himself think about how he used to mark his Mondays with (the lack of) _Yongpuffs_ ; now he thinks of Mondays as, _Oh. I get to see Youngho again today_.)

 

x

 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Youngho whispers under his breath when Taeil slides into the seat the taller man had kept for him. Taeil had slept through all his alarms, barely making within the grace period Professor Jung had awarded (“15 minutes!”) before he’d take points off for tardiness. “I couldn’t sign in without you,” Youngho juts his lower lip out, and Taeil huffs. He’s still panting from the short jog he had to take.

Taeil eyes the attendance sheet; Youngho’s tiny signature in the _Week One_ cell from the day he’d asked Taeil for a pen, signed in the same ink all the way to _Week Seven_.

“Why don’t you bring a pen with you if you know you’re going to need it?” Taeil grumbles, but he hands his pen to Youngho anyway. He keeps the pen at the side of his backpack for easy access. Definitely not because he knew Youngho would ask for it. “Or ask Sehun for his pen.”

“I like asking you for _your_ pen,” Youngho grins, Taeil flushing instantly. He thinks Youngho takes pride in being to fluster Taeil so easily, in a snap.

He snatches the pen back from Youngho when the younger was done signing in the _Week Eight_ cell, mumbling, “It’s just a pen…”, ignoring Youngho’s muffled laughter.

“Stop that,” Taeil flicks Youngho’s forearm, and the latter pouts again, furrowing his brows together to feign a look of hurt. A retort is on the tip of Taeil’s tongue when his stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud gurgling noise; loud enough for Sehun on Youngho’s other side to snicker. “I feel like my stomach is digesting itself,” he moans, patting his stomach softly, hopefully beating the hunger out of him. Taeil can’t remember if he had dinner the night before, as vocal practice had gone on for longer than expected, messing up his nightly revision schedule.

“You should really eat before coming to school,” Taeil thinks the concern is sweet. “I’ve some food if you want,” Youngho offers, already reaching down for his backpack.

Taeil stops him, hand on Youngho’s forearm, “It’s okay, I’m fine,” he reassures the taller boy when Youngho gives him an apprehensive frown, eyes conveying a look of worry that seems to throw Taeil off. He gulps and has to look away (but not before Taeil zeroes in on Youngho’s lips for half a second). So, he focuses Youngho’s backpack instead, a familiar shade of blue peeking out from his unclosed bag.

“Hey, is that –”

“Alright, choose your partners, and get to work.”

For the second time that day, Taeil loses his train of thought when he squints at the slideshow presented on the screen. _Partner up with a classmate to write a long-form article on an event, place, or person. This final project is worth 30%._

 _Partners?_ Taeil thinks, hands turning clammy when he notices it’s still on Youngho. He pulls away quickly, brushing off the questioning gaze Youngho sends his way.

“Do it with me?” Youngho grabs the hand that Taeil had on him just a few seconds earlier.

Taeil splutters, eyes growing to the size of saucers, unaware if Youngho was aware of the double entendre laced in that phrase. The way Youngho’s nose scrunches when he laughs at Taeil’s reaction tells the shorter man that, _yes_ , Youngho is aware. Taeil groans inwardly, Youngho loved to catch him off guard like that.

“What about Sehun?” Taeil manages to cough out, throat dryer than when Jaehyun tried to bake his 23rd birthday cake, but had failed miserably.

Taeil’s question is moot because Sehun already has someone else’s phone in his hand, obviously exchanging numbers.

Youngho places his phone into Taeil’s hand (the one that’s attached to the wrist Youngho is holding onto), “Your number, please,” he smiles, and it’s _so_ charming that Taeil has to take a second or two before the cogs in his brain moves again.

When Taeil’s done, he hands Youngho his phone back. Youngho texts Taeil right away, tapping quickly, just before the older boy’s phone vibrates on the table, < _i changed your name to sleeping beauty jsyk >_ followed by a plethora of crowns and sparkles.

“Do you have anything you want to write about?” Youngho asks before Taeil can protest, so he quickly saves Youngho as just _youngho_ , laying his phone screen first back onto the desk.

Taeil thinks for a moment, racking his brains, “Should we write about an event?”

“How about the Pride parade?” The words leave Youngho’s lips slowly, like he’s threading on dangerous waters. Taeil looks up from tweedling his thumbs only to find Youngho peering down at him warily. It doesn’t hit Taeil immediately, but then, Oh. _Oh._

His heart thumps loudly in his ear, but he can feel it pounding in his bones. The way Youngho stares at him like he’s the only one in the room, and it’s knocks all the wind out of Taeil’s lungs. He can’t hear anything, a buzzing sound effectively muting the rest of the chatter. His chest grows tight when Youngho wets his lips, the sight of saliva glistening on his lips goes straight to the bottom of Taeil’s groin. _This is too much too fast_ , he panics, but Youngho is waiting patiently for his answer, expectant.

“I didn’t, uh, go,” a look of momentary disappoint flashes, before Taeil’s rushing to clarify, “I mean!” he blurts out, a little too loudly (Sehun turns to give him a look), both hands shooting out to hold onto Youngho’s shoulder before he can stop himself. “I was sick that day,” Taeil reveals, looking straight at Youngho. “Else,” he painfully swallows the growing lump his throat, lowering his voice when he notices a couple of other students eavesdropping, “I definitely would’ve… participated,” he wonders if that’s the right word, but he hopes Youngho gets the hint.

Taeil thinks he hears a sigh of relief, but he’s distracted by the growing smile plastered on the latter’s face, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears.

“We can write about that then,” Youngho sounds pleased, the tip of his ears coloured a furious red. Taeil thinks it’s endearing.

“I actually haven’t been,” Taeil admits truthfully, lowering his hands. Whenever the day rolls around, Taeil seemed to have clashing appointments, classes, or just down with the worse cold. Additionally, he hasn’t had anyone to go with, but wasn’t about to disclose that to Youngho.

“That’s fine,” Youngho waves at the air dismissively. If he was any perturbed by that revelation, he does a good job of hiding it. He scoots closer to Taeil, their knees knocking. “I just suggested it because I’m on the street fair team this year,” there’s an underlying invitation in there, but Youngho continues on before Taeil can respond to it, “We can just write about a peculiar store or something.”

A lightbulb in Taeil’s head flickers on, “I know just the place.”

Interrupting him swiftly, Youngho declares, “It’s a date!”

 

x

 

Taeil wouldn’t go as far to say that his days are brighter now, ever since he and Youngho had exchanged number, but they’d gotten even closer; Youngho would lean against Taeil whenever he could, despite the discernible height difference, and their hands would just find each other instinctively. They would have lunch together, just the two of them. (“Bros before… Well, _intimate_ bros!” Sehun yelled when they parted ways. Youngho flung a bread biscuit at Sehun in response, and Taeil quickly tugged him away, before Sehun hurled his tray of food their way, something Sehun is completely capable of.) On days when Taeil’s vocal practice don’t run too long, they would have dinner at one of those diners near campus, or that _Phở_ place Youngho was obsessed with.

Youngho would bus with Taeil to school, the (fairly) new apartment he shared with Sehun only a street or two down.

“We moved in at the beginning of this term? So, Taemin picks Jongin and Kyungsoo from their place first, then he’d swing by ours to pick Sehun and I up in his ridiculously old ‘89 _Corolla_ ,” Youngho’d told him the first time they sat side-by-side at the back of the bus, shoulders, arms, and thighs touching. “We’d usually get breakfast together too,” Taeil hummed attentively, leaning his head onto Youngho’s shoulder.

They’re now this _thing_ that Taeil doesn’t know yet how to label. All he knows is that the texts he wakes to never fails to put a goofy grin on his face, even when he has to be out of the apartment in under two minutes.

 _< good morningggggg  > _It reads, accompanied with a sun and a matching yellow heart. It’s simple, but it’s just enough to make Taeil’s heart flutter.

 _< i had to check in early with my psych prof about my final thesis, so i’m already here… i’ll see you in class???  > _comes a second message (also flooded with yellow hearts) when Taeil’s out of the building, jogging over to _Yongpuffs._

He had told Youngho of the place over lunch the afternoon they exchanged numbers, about how they sold amazing pastries, and never failed to make him feel all warm on the inside, as if he were transported back to his childhood, eating one of his mother’s chocolate chip cookies. (“But better,” Taeil added, to which Youngho laughed adorably to.)

Taeil left out the name of the beloved shop, arguing that Youngho shouldn’t read anything up on it before they visited together, so that they would be able to get an unbiased review. (“You should share the good things in life, y’know,” Youngho frowned, but Taeil knows that there was no bite to his word.)

“Hey,” Taeil calls out casually, and Doyoung looks up from carefully arranging the pastries atop the counter.

“Now I _really_ haven’t seen you in a while,” and it’s a déjà vu moment, Taeil struggling to recall the last time he’s had a _Yongpuff_. School (and Youngho) was taking up a lot of his time (and attention) lately.

Just as he’s expected, there are no _Yongpuffs_ in the display. Taeil has accepted his fate of this Monday morning tradition.

“I can’t be the _only_ one wondering where all the _Yongpuffs_ are every Monday morning,” Taeil insists, a _Dopuff_ looking back at him, albeit sadly.

“I already told you,” the baker sighs, “There’re these new regulars that’ve been clearing out the _Yongpuffs_ like they're feeding a tiny school… They're here every Monday.”

Taeil exhales loudly, then remembering why he came over in the first place, “Right, I actually came over to ask you guys if it’s cool I write about the store for one of my assignments,” he asks, but it doesn’t come out like a question.

“Yeah, we’d be honoured,” The kitchen door is pushed open, and Taeyong emerges from behind. The dark circles under the baker’s eyes causes an unsettling rumble in Taeil’s guilt-filled stomach. He hopes it’s not too obvious, but the look Doyoung has on his face tells a different story.

“I’ve heard you’ve been missing out on your daily dose,” Taeyong jokes good-naturedly, and Taeil notes that the baker’s arms are all covered in flour. “Sorry about that, my hands can only move so fast,” and at Taeil’s panic stricken expression, Taeyong’s eyes twinkles with mirth, the sides of his lips turned upwards, “I was just kidding!”

Taeil lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

He doesn’t know if he should avert his eyes when Doyoung steps half a step closer to the baker, allowing Taeyong to rest his weight comfortably on the taller boy. Their hands lace together naturally, and even from where Taeil is standing, he can see Doyoung delicately rubbing the back of Taeyong’s hand with his thumb.

“There was just a customer that came in before you, taking the remaining _Yongpuffs_ ,” Taeyong explains, even though Taeil’s heard it from Doyoung before. “It wasn’t the usual guy, though, was it?”

A loud crash followed by a tiny _ow_ cuts their conversation short, before Taeil can assure Taeyong that _it’s okay_. Taeyong hurriedly untangles himself from Doyoung, bidding goodbye with a quick _see you again soon!_

There’s a palpable tension in the air when Taeyong leaves. He knew of Doyoung’s preferences; the purple haired boy was once the talk of town when he kissed another boy right on the lips in elementary school, claiming it was something he ‘felt like he had to do’. Taeil was two grades above him then, and was the first to come to Doyoung’s rescue when he was being verbally threatened by a few other schoolmates. He was thanked by a quiet Doyoung for chasing them away, and that was that.

 _And now we’re here,_ Taeil reflects, looking at Doyoung, who was doing all he can to ignore Taeil’s unspoken curiosity. It’s mutually understood that Doyoung’s not one to talk about feelings, especially not with Taeil, considering how weak their friendship is. He can’t help but feel a little _proud_ for Doyoung.

Taeil clears his throat, “I’ll be back sometime soon with my partner to write that article.”

Doyoung’s ears perked at that, blinking twice, “Partner?” His thin lips curve into a knowing smirk (a borderline sneer) when Taeil blushes a deep shade of rose.

“Worry about yourself, Kim Doyoung!” Taeil nags loudly, out the door just as he catches a glimpse of the younger boy flipping him off.

 

The bus is on time, but traffic moves at a leisurely place.

 _< are you coming for class? _ > Taeil gets the message the moment he gets off the bus, realising that he’d forgotten to reply to Youngho’s morning text as well.

Taeil’s down the hall, and typing up a quick response when he bumps face first into someone’s backpack, phone bumping into his chin.

“Sorry,” he begins, but he’s realises it’s just Sehun when he looks up.

The blonde boy has one of the iconic _Yongpuffs_ take out baggies pointed at his opened mouth, the other hand hitting the bottom of it, trying to get whatever remnants he can out of there.

“This is so good,” Sehun practically moans when Taeil ushers the taller boy towards the direction of their class.

“What did you get?” Taeil ignores his phone vibrating in his back pocket. For a guy over six feet, Youngho’s unexpectedly clingy. (Not that Taeil dislikes the attention, though.)

“A _Yongpuff_ ,” Sehun’s shoulders sag when he crushes the empty paper bag, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “This is my second one.”

Taeil balks, “What!” they stop right in front of the lecture, “How did you get that?”

“Going in, boys?”

It’s Professor Jung, effectively ending Taeil’s short-lived interrogation when they nod politely and follow him into the class.

“Saved you a seat,” Youngho’s face brightens when he spots Taeil behind Sehun.

“Aw,” Sehun croons loudly in reply, taking the seat on Youngho’s other side, “Thanks, _baby_!”

Youngho’s hand comes down hard on the back Sehun’s skinny thighs, the resounding _thwack_ inducing a rumble of chuckles from the students around them. Sehun hands Youngho a carton of chocolate milk, and Youngho thanks him without much gratitude.

“Where did you go?” Youngho whispers into Taeil’s ear, warm breath fanning across the shorter’s cheeks.

 _You smell like strawberry again today_ , Taeil thinks to himself, hairs on the back of his neck standing, “I went to the bakery to get their permission,” he mumbles, “for our article.”

Taeil makes a mental note to ask Sehun when he’d gotten the _Yongpuff_ especially on a Monday? How did he not get the _Yongpuff_ stolen from right under his nose?

(That thought is forgotten, however, when Youngho spends the rest of the lecture mindlessly fidgeting with Taeil’s hand under their desks, tracing meaningless patterns onto his palm, like they’re a bunch of high school students.

Taeil ignores the fact that his heart is palpitating, shivers running down his spine.)

 

_< still in practice???  > _

_< Just locking up.  > _Taeil replies quickly, turning the lock on the door.

It was a long lesson, but Taeil stayed to practice, even after Professor Shim had left an hour ago when the clock flashed _9PM_.

 _< walk you back???  > _Taeil instinctively looks up when he turns the corner, a gasp escaping his lips when he’s face-to-face with Youngho, leaning against the stair’s handrail.

“You scared me!” Taeil chastises, but there’s no venom in his voice, beaming up at the taller boy. "This needs to stop happening," referring to the first time he walked face first into Youngho.

Youngho takes Taeil’s hand into his, intertwining their fingers easily as they make their way down the stairs. They’ve held hands more times than Taeil can count off his fingers and toes, but his heart still skips a beat when they do.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” Youngho grabs Taeil’s other hand, pulling him closer when they arrive at the landing, looking down at him with such sweetness, Taeil thinks he might get diabetes.

The long hours in the studio must’ve boggled with Taeil’s mind, sending a bout of confidence through him. Taeil wiggles his hands free from Youngho’s hold to envelope the taller boy, wrapping his arms around Youngho’s waist. Youngho reciprocates easily, arms circling Taeil’s narrow shoulders.

“Everything okay?” Youngho murmurs into the top of Taeil’s head.

It’s week twelve of the semester, and Taeil has to admit it’s been wringing him dry, despite being in his last year of college. He nods his head yes, resting his cheek on Youngho’s warm chest.

“Just a little tired,” he admits, inhaling deeply. Youngho smells like steak, and fries, and Youngho.

“Maybe we should take a break together this weekend?” Youngho suggests, shifting his weight from side-to-side, moving Taeil with him.

“Like a date?” Taeil sniffs, eyes closed.

“Like a date,” Youngho confirms, and Taeil thinks he’s hallucination when he feels Youngho press his lips against his hair. “Would that be okay?”

Taeil pulls away just to smile up at Youngho, “I’d love that.”

Youngho grins, leading Taeil through the empty hallway. When they get to the main entrance, Taeil waves goodbye to the guard on duty, who waves back, recognising Taeil from all the time he’s spent in the building.

“Maybe we should go to that bakery you suggested,” when Taeil doesn’t say anything, he continues, “for our article,” Youngho swings their hands as they leave the building. Taeil huddles a little closer to Youngho when the wind blows.

Taeil sighs again, “Yeah, we should get started on that.”

“We have about a month left, don’t worry,” Youngho squeezes Taeil’s hand reassuringly, “And, if that baker’s as _amazing_ as you’ve been insisting,” Taeil rolls his eyes, “the paper will be a piece of cake.”

Taeil laughs at that, burying his face into Youngho again when the night wind rushes past.

 

x

 

Sunday rolls around quicker than Taeil expected, and Youngho’s standing at his doorstep, hair fluffy like he’s just showered, and smiling excitedly.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Taeil leans against the door frame, “I forgot to plug my phone in last night, and now it’s pretty much dead, so I just need to charge it for a bit to get some juice.”

Youngho’s pats his chest, “At least invite me out to dinner before inviting me into your place,” he chuckles, slipping past Taeil easily. Taeil shuts the door, and trails behind Youngho, who looks around the studio, peering into the tiny kitchen. He tugs on Youngho’s blue flannel.

“Don’t be annoying,” Taeil huffs, “We’ve gone out for dinner _plenty_ of times.”

“I’m just kidding,” Youngho teases, spinning around to take Taeil’s hands in his. There’s static when they touch, like a spark of electricity, but Taeil doesn’t shrink away, preoccupied with the way Youngho’s hooded eyes are staring down at him.

The fire in Taeil rages when Youngho leans forward, quickly closing the space between them. Taeil gulps, nervousness creeping up his throat, and he shoves it back down. His eyes flutter shut when Youngho focuses on Taeil’s lips. He anticipates a soft kiss on the lips, but Youngho’s lips brushes against Taeil’s cheek instead, and his eyes fly open.

Youngho is laughing now, teasing, and Taeil wrestles himself free, heat burning his cheeks, and the back of neck. The taller tries to catch Taeil again, but he slinks away from Youngho’s touch, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Don’t tease me,” Taeil grumbles, sounding like a five-year-old, hearing himself makes him blush harder.

“I wasn’t teasing!” Youngho laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Taeil is avoiding his every lunge Youngho throws at him, but he blocks Taeil from ducking, herding the other into a corner, hands on the wall behind Taeil, caging him. Taeil glares up at Youngho, hands coming up to push the taller away, but Youngho doesn’t budge.

“I wasn’t teasing,” Youngho whispers, his forehead nearly bumping against Taeil’s. Youngho’s voice is lower now, a different look in his eye, tongue darting out to lick his lips, tense. With their faces so close, Taeil takes a moment to admire Youngho’s earring (ignoring the urge to touch his ears), then Youngho’s full lips, then his eyes. His _eyes._ Taeil thinks his heart is going to fall out of his mouth when Youngho continues, “I’m nervous.”

It takes Taeil _pure_ courage (and the fact that he really wants Youngho to kiss him) to smooth his hands up Youngho’s chest, gently squeezing his shoulders, he breathes, “Don’t be.”

Youngho hesitates, and Taeil blinks up at him, lips parted, “Can I kiss you?”

Taeil grabs fistfuls of Youngho’s collar, pulling him down to press their lips together, eyes closing for the second time, and Taeil’s heart soars. He feels Youngho smile against his lips, a hand moving to steady them, on the small of Taeil’s back, the other in Taeil’s hair.

Youngho’s lips move against his, catching Taeil’s lower lip between his own, tugging slightly. Taeil pulls Youngho closer, and Youngho laughs into the kiss, pushing Taeil against the wall, his body pressed against Taeil’s. Youngho licks his lips for permission, and Taeil’s readily lets him in. His heart is going a million miles an hour when Youngho sucks on Taeil’s tongue, moaning at the loss when Youngho pulls away, breathing heavily.

They stare into each other’s eyes for just a heartbeat, before Youngho’s smiling (and so is Taeil), and he dips down to kiss Taeil again. Taeil brings a hand up to Youngho’s cheek, thumb caressing the taller gently. They kiss, and they kiss, and they _kiss_. Taeil thinks that they might never stop kissing. He thumbs the edge of Youngho’s white shirt, wanting to feel Youngho under his touch, skin on skin.

He’s concentrating hard on whether he should do it (the way Youngho is kissing him is distracting enough), but Youngho’s phone rings, loud and clear.

Youngho doesn’t stop kissing him, not even when it dies down, and starts again. And Taeil isn’t opposed to ignoring it, hands playfully grazing along the edge of Youngho’s jeans, letting Youngho kiss him however he likes.

But when his phone rings for the fourth time in a row, Youngho pulls away reluctantly, groaning loudly.

“Sorry,” his voice is hoarse, and Taeil takes pride in that. He kisses Youngho again, sweet and quick. Youngho fishes his phone from his back pocket, still leaning against Taeil, who’s thoroughly enjoying the position they’re in. Taeil touches the shell of Youngho’s ear, eyebrows cocking when Youngho shivers, “This is not a good time, Sehun.”

Taeil can’t hear what Sehun says in response, so he starts to pepper Youngho’s neck with kisses instead, and Youngho’s free hand squeezes Taeil’s biceps lightly. Taeil looks up to see Youngho grinning madly down at him, and he tiptoes to kiss Youngho again.

When the conversation seems like it might go on longer than expected, Taeil untangles himself from their embrace, doing his best to ignore Youngho’s pout. He walks over to his bed to unplug his phone, thinking of texting Doyoung that Youngho and himself would be by _Yongpuffs_ soon.

“What! Seriously?!” Youngho practically yells, startling Taeil, but he doesn’t notice, engrossed in his conversation. “I’m with Taeil right now, I can’t just – no, why don’t you guys just – no, I know, okay, no, yeah, I know, I’ll come over now, but I’m bringing Taeil!”

Taeil turns around, arms folded across his chest, to see Youngho look at him with pleading eyes. He walks to Taeil, holding out a hand, sticking out his lip. Taeil rolls his eyes, and nods, grabbing Youngho’s hand in his.

“Awesome,” Youngho says, but Taeil doesn’t know if he’s talking to him or Sehun, “We’ll be there in a bit!”

“What did Sehun say?” Taeil asks when Youngho hangs up, tucking his phone away.

Youngho doesn’t answer right away, more interested in kissing Taeil instead. They’re back at it for another moment or two, until Taeil laughs, pulling away.

“Don’t _we_ have to be somewhere?”

Youngho circles an arm around Taeil’s waist, leading him to the door, “Remember when I told you I was on the committee for this year’s Pride parade’s street fair?” Taeil nods, leaning into Youngho’s hold. “I just got this _really_ awesome baker to take part! They didn’t want to at first, because the baker wasn’t comfortable with it, but something must’ve changed his mind, because they agreed!”

“That’s nice that things worked out,” Taeil beams, loving how excited Youngho looked. He leans up to peck Youngho on the lips when they leave the studio, the door closing behind them. “How did you find them?”

“Sehun and I found it when we were out one night and got lost,” Youngho rubs his neck sheepishly. “We’ve actually been going there every week just to pester the baker,” they turn to walk down the stairwell, “The stuff we had was _so_ good, we couldn’t give it up,” he laughs. “He’s honestly the best baker in town!”

“Congratulations, but,” Youngho raises an eyebrow at him, “The best baker? Can’t possibly be better than the baker _I_ know.”

Youngho guffaws, “Taeil, I just wanted you to know,” it’s Taeil’s turn to look at him, but he has a smirk on his lips, “I conceded when you said you knew the best bakery because I really, _really_ liked you, but _I_ know the best baker in town.”

“The rest are over there now, and they want us to taste some of the new things they’re planning for the day,” Youngho continues as they amble out of the apartment building, practically attached at the hip. “So, you can be the judge of that.”

“Why, thank you for conceding,” Taeil rolls his eyes, but he lets himself get dragged by Youngho, leading him down the street. He bumps into Youngho, letting out a contented sigh, “I really, _really_ like you too, by the way.”

Before Youngho could respond, _Yongpuffs_ comes into view and Taeil spots Doyoung and Taeyong through the glass windows. They’re standing behind the counter, laughing as they tend to three lanky customers. Taeil knows that blonde hair anywhere.

“Wait, isn’t –”

“This is it!” Youngho says at the same time.

Taeil frowns in confusion, and Youngho looks genuinely surprised.

“This is your baker?”

“This is _your_ baker?” They say together again, both sounding equally incredulous.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Sehun has a _Yongpuff_ in his hand, and Taeil feels like he just woke up in a parallel universe. _What is happening?_

In response to the lack of response, Sehun grabs Youngho (who’s still holding onto Taeil, despite being frozen), and drags them both into the shop.

“You guys know Youngho,” Sehun says lazily, biting into the _Yongpuff_ again.

“This is Taeil,” Jongin, who also has a _Yongpuff_ in his hand (and mouth), points, “They’re dating.”

To that, Taeil turns to Doyoung and Taeyong, who are both gaping at Taeil and Youngho with identical, surprised expressions.

“Wait, wait, _wait_ ,” Taeil puts his hands up, palms forward like he’s surrendering, “This is the bakery that you’ve been visiting every week?” And when Youngho nods, Taeil doesn’t know what to make of it so he turns to Doyoung instead.

“The rest wait in the car while I get us pastries _,_ and coffee…” Youngho’s voice falters when Taeil’s glares at him, clenching his jaw.

“Actually,” Doyoung enunciates slowly, as if there weren’t six people looking at him intently, “Youngho here has been clearing out _Yongpuffs_ at the start of every week. Five for him and the others.”

Taeil gasps loudly, hands flying to his face, turning to glare at Youngho, “It was _you_!”

“What?” Youngho’s jaw drops, pointing at himself, “Me?”

“You!” Taeil affirms, stepping forward, punching Youngho in the shoulder.

“Okay, _ow_!” Youngho avoids another of Taeil’s punches, looking at the others, “Someone please fill me in!”

“I’ve been trying to get a _Yongpuff_ all semester and I couldn’t because _you_ ,” Taeil manages to punch Youngho in the shoulder again, “keep buying them all!”

“To be fair,” Doyoung interrupts unhelpfully, “You’ve _had_ _Yongpuffs_.”

“Mondays are the hardest!” Taeil smacks Youngho again, who whines loudly. He could block Taeil easily, but he lets his small boyfriend take it out on him. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

Youngho quickly brings Taeil into a hug when the latter is huffing, tired from all the punches he’s been throwing, “You can’t possibly be mad at me for buying _Yongpuffs_ for breakfast,” He laughs, arms tight around Taeil.

“No,” Taeil sighs in defeat, burying his face into Youngho’s chest. “But you owe me… I’ve suffered many hungry mornings because of you!”

“How about I buy you one every morning from now onwards?” Youngho jokes.

Taeil takes it anyway, “Deal.”

Youngho kisses Taeil again, and Taeil smiles into the kiss, the smell of strawberries and coffee taking him right back to when Youngho’d first nudged Taeil, asking if he could borrow a pen.

 

 

(“When you guys are done making out in front of us,” Taemin drawls, pulling them apart with a jump, as if they’d forgotten everyone else standing around. “I’ve to take some to Minho, and the others, so...”

“Yeah, and Kyungsoo is waiting for me back home, he wanted a few of the _Dopuffs_ too,” Jongin chimes in.

“ _Finally_!” Doyoung yells, everyone jumping a foot in the air. “Validation!”

Taeyong laughs, hiding himself behind Doyoung’s shoulder.)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback sent to my [tumblr](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com/ask) will be warmly welcomed + more notes for this work can be found [here](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com/post/164752912272/note-for-of-pastries-and-borrowed-pens-insp)!


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